Various Writing Prompts
by agapecentauri
Summary: Various writing prompts I see pop up on Tumblr that pique my interest to write really quick/short one-shots. All PotO inspired. Most are T, but listing as M just in case.
1. Things you said that I wish you hadn't

Writing Prompt from Tumblr: #17, "Things you said that I wish you hadn't"

"This is a rather compromising position we find ourselves in, my dear…" Erik barely let out an exhausted and exasperated breath. "I'm not sure how much longer I can hang on." The urgency in his voice palpable.

"Well we wouldn't BE in this situation if you wouldn't have let your pride interfere with everything you do, Erik, my love," Christine spat back with a very strained voice. Neither of them could have honestly foreseen themselves in such a compromising predicament. One wrong move and all their strength would give out. Erik's arms were screaming in agony and Christine's feet were beginning to slip off the dangerous angle which she found herself.

"Just admit it, Erik, just let go and admit defeat. It's over now!"

"NEVER! This is your fault, Christine. You wanted to do this and look where it got us. If I admit defeat now, I lose my grip and will crush you. I'm not letting go!" Erik strained to lift his aching left hand towards the ledge but his other hand began slipping out from underneath him and he had to catch himself before plummeting to the floor below him.

"Damn it, I can't reach it! Christine, you'll need to reach if you are able. It's the only way we can end this safely."

With an excruciating pull of muscle Christine was able to pull the item towards her and sighed in relief as she flicked the spindle and let out the most obnoxiously boisterous laugh. "What on earth could possibly be that funny at a time like this?!" Erik roared.

"Right foot yellow." As they both moved Erik crumbled achingly to the floor. The contortions of his body giving out as Christine leapt for a champion's win! "Yes, yes, YES! Have fun washing the dishes, Erik. I'm going to bed! Love you," Christine giggled at Erik as she scurried up the stairs to the bedroom.

"Damn it I hate Twister…" Erik fumed.


	2. Things I Dreamt Last Night

Writing Prompt from timebird84 on Tumblr: "Challenge: Use the prompt to write a PotO related oneshot, #things I dreamt last night"

**A/N: This is a small teasing glance into what happens later on in my fic "Once Upon Another Time". I really hope this tidbit leaves you wanting me to hurry up and post more chapters. The only difference and change to cater to this prompt is changing the perspective to Christine in the first person. Enjoy!**

Ever since that awful, traumatic night so many years ago, the same dream haunted my slumber almost on a nightly basis. But there was something different about tonight, from the events of this afternoon… of HIM. My brain worked furiously to drudge of memories long forgotten, that I had for so long pushed away to save my sanity and my heart from further torment. But the things I dreamt last night were so different. The recurring nightmare was always the same, but for most of this summer, it lay dormant. There was something about the events of the afternoon, the party, the people, and a very specific PERSON, that awakened every frightening memory.

I felt Erik's heated kisses mapping every line and every detail from my lips down to my neck, seductively skating across my collar bone, his hands working frantically to peel off my clothing. My breath hitched at the sudden bite of teeth at the base of my throat. Suddenly feeling strong hands and fingers ripping the flesh at my hairline, gorging and digging into the nape of my neck. Earnest panting quickly giving way to blood curdling shrieks of pain and horror. This wasn't Erik's touches and caresses… Oh God, no, not him! "No! Stop it… please STOP IT! NO!" the words scorching my throat as I was pleading with helpless abandon. The gnashing of teeth and fingers continued ripping through my skin. "I told you, Christine… no one will love you like me. NO ONE!" Oh God, stop, NO! My fighting wasn't enough and the painful, gut wrenching gnashing of Kevin's teeth never ceased. "NO ONE CHRISTINE! NO ONE!"

With a strangled gasp, I jolted up from my deep slumber, my brown curls completely matted to my sweat-soaked face, neck, and back, tears streaming down my face. Just a dream, just a nightmare. I attempted to remind myself as I tried to adjust to this new setting while piling up my hair into a messy bun to find some kind of relief. I peaked at the nightstand and the dull green clock numbers peaked back at me, 3:36AM. Forcing my memory into the present, I remembered where I was: Meg and Raoul's house, spending the night. _That's right, the party…_


	3. Kiss on a Dare

**Writing prompt from kwat01: Kissing Prompt List, No. 21 - Kiss on a Dare**

**A/N: This one was fun because it gives a quick backstory and history of how Meg and Raoul became a couple in my fic in progress "Once Upon Another Time." Thank you for the ask!**

"I dare you to give him a kiss!" teased Charlotte, as Meg wrapped her flags around the poles and made their way out into formation.

"No! He doesn't even like me like that!" shrieked Meg. Even from the age of seven, Meg always thought Raoul was adorable.

Although they grew up in separate towns 30 minutes away from each other, Meg and Raoul went to the same school and were in the same class together ever since kindergarten. As such for small towns in this rural part of Pennsylvania, everyone knew each other, despite the blatant separation of the super wealthy and the upper working class. Ever since kindergarten, Meg and Raoul were inseparable. They both shared scared tears on the first day of all-day kindergarten, but found quick friendship in each other. Moving through elementary school was fun, and the two were always joined at the hip until it no longer became cool to hang out with each other.

"Raoul, she can't play tag with us. She's not fast enough!" Raoul's friends would chide constantly. Meg would turn away feeling defeated and Raoul wouldn't stand up for her. Nevertheless, they remained friends, although moving within different circles of friends. Middle school was always wrought with pre-teen angst and hormones, and one rarely escapes those years unphased.

It really wasn't until sophomore year of high school when Raoul got his driver's license when the childhood friends decided to jump into the world of high school sweethearts. The weekend before the big rivalry football game one Friday night, Meg was in the band room with the other members of the color guard, getting ready for the pregame performance to mark the last game of the season. Raoul was already at the football stadium with his friends as the sounds of the drumline echoing its cadence down the street signaled that it was time to clear the pathway for the band to begin their show.

It wasn't until Raoul glanced up to see Meg march by carrying her flags and wearing her wispy color guard captain's costume when a sudden rush of nerves bounced about his nerves and reverberated within the chambers of his young heart. Meg flashed a smile his way, followed by her typical stick her tongue out and look like a crazed loon, which always left Raoul stifling a snorting laugh. "Raoul, who is that?" a friend broke Raoul of his chuckling stupor. "Can you introduce me? She's really cute!" Raoul felt his face flush with… was this really jealousy?

"That's Meg Giry. And no, I can't introduce you; she has a boyfriend," Raoul caught himself. _No she doesn't… not yet anyways_. He wasn't sure exactly when he felt a change of heart, but it was a few months ago, when Meg was feeling really down about not having a date to some stupid formal at the high school. Raoul wasn't going to go, he was adamant that school dances were meant for the popular crowd, but he gave in to Meg's begging of "let's just go together and make fun of everyone there. Come on, Raoul!" Perhaps it was when he came to pick her up the night of and really saw her for the first time. Her blonde hair was up in a tight French twist with a few curls cascading down her bare shoulders, which donned a seafoam green sheer scarf and accompanying dress. She looked radiant. He had to clear the knot in his throat as he had to maintain the air of teasing friend. "Yeah, I guess you clean up ok, Meg," he continued teasing. She would retort, "At least you figured out how to use soap, jerk" and their laughter ensued.

It was during one slow dance to the Goo Goo Dolls that Raoul felt another change. He held Meg, her arms draped around his neck and his hands around her waist. They couldn't make eye contact… or rather, they wouldn't. Raoul felt his hands go cold when he did catch a glimmer of light sparkling in her eye as if she wanted to look at him. The ride home in the car was quiet and heavy.

But tonight, Raoul was determined. Tonight, he had made up his mind to ask Meg to be his girlfriend. It wasn't until halftime that he would get the chance to ask her. He watched enthralled as Meg pirouetted around the football field, throwing her flag high and catching it easily, spinning furiously to the sounds of the marching band around her. And now halftime was here, and Raoul resolved to find her. And there she stood, with her friends, giggling and sipping hot chocolate. Charlotte teasing poked Meg, "Here he comes. I dare you to kiss him," she whispered incessantly like a summer mosquito.

"Uh, hey Meg. Good job tonight - band sounded good, too," Raoul barely stammered out. Meg blushed.

"Thanks," she responded as she felt Charlotte give a little push forward and the group of friends retreated off to give the pair some privacy. _I dare you to kiss him_. Charlotte's voice buzzed over and over again.

Raoul fidgeted awkwardly with the cuff of his sleeve. _I dare you to kiss him. I dare you to kiss him. Kiss him. I want to kiss him_. Before she could talk herself out of it, Meg abruptly leaned his and snatched Raoul's lips with a delicate, lightly placed kiss. And just as quickly as she stole the first kiss, she stammered backwards crumbling inside that she might have made a huge mistake.

Before she could wave a flag of defeat and retreat, Raoul's hands met her face as he leaned for another kiss. "Dare accepted," Meg whispered.


	4. Mischief Night

POTO 13 DAYS OF HALLOWEEN: OCTOBER 28th

_Mischief Night_

Written & Submitted for a-partofthenarrative's 13 Nights of POTO Halloween

(A modern AU E/C, R/M fic that happens after "Once Upon Another Time. This one is told from Erik's perspective, which is a very different lens for me to write. Although I've never read the HP books, I do recall the boggart. I hope you enjoy the crossover!)

I never liked Halloween. I hated mischief night even more. Did children and young adults really need another evening to act like raging lunatics? Of course not. So when my siblings-by-happenstance, Raoul and Meg, mentioned to us about this new traveling fair making its way across the state, I was reluctant at best. What I didn't realize, however, was the evilness and fear that still lived on within my beloved's memories.

The two hour drive north into the outskirts of the Pocono Mountains was long. The roads were covered in rain-soaked leaves making traction in the car rather treacherous. The only thing that made it all worth it was the company of a beautiful angel sitting next to me, humming along to our favorite songs that first drew us together over six years ago. My Christine, my songbird, my soul, my life, my everything. Memories from our very first encounter flooded my mind as the sun set over the rolling mountains. "Erik…" oh that sweet voice, "Erik, our exit is two more miles." I glanced over to look at her face. "Backseat driver," I bantered to her.

"Well, yeah… and you're… something," Christine grumbled and stuck her tongue out.

"Classy woman," I jested.

"But you love me," Christine replied while grabbing my free hand and placing a gentle kiss upon my fingers with a smile.

We continued on for a few more miles off the highway, closely following Raoul's car in front of us. The rainstorm had finally cleared out earlier that afternoon and now the dark, night sky was beginning to come alive with twinkling stars. When we finally parked, we stretched our legs before trekking through the mud towards the fair. I should have known this was going to be a disaster because the eery, purple-hued lights gave off a warning: Enter at your own risk. Christine's fingers wove together with mine and I could feel a tinge of anxiety in her touch. "My love, is everything alright?" I asked her. She gave only a slight nod of affirmation. Through everything that had happened in the past few years, I knew how to read her body and movements. Her movement in this moment meant just one thing: she was steeling herself against an unknown foe.

Entering the tent, we were bombarded with, of all things, a rather calming atmosphere, with child-like excitement one feels as the theatre lights dim before a performance or the anticipation of a spectacular fireworks display. It was indeed magical. We sincerely enjoyed ourselves as we took pictures of each other eating an unhealthy amount of blue cotton candy, popcorn, and what I gathered to be a supposed chilli dog. We laughed, we attempted to scare each other, and we all tried our absolute best to get Raoul to scream like a child of which we failed miserably.

It wasn't until the end of our outing that a very different sign attracted our attention. We observed folks going in straight-faced almost terrified on one side but emerging in hysterics on the other. "What a peculiar oddity," I mused aloud as we approached the main event. On the sign, the instructions read: "Beware the Boggart."

"Bog-gart? Bo-gart? Bogg-art?" We all took turns butchering the word. "I like Bo-gart! Like Humphrey Bogart!" Meg laughed. "Oh, we should watch Casablanca this weekend!" We broke out in hysterics at Meg's spirograph of thoughts and verbiage, but honestly we were all struggling to figure out what a Boggart truly was and what was the catch.

"Ah, young people, you seem intrigued by a new wonder birthed of witchcraft and wizardry, of folklore of the ancient English hills. Of the days of Merlin and King Arthur; of the beautiful and treasonous lovers of Lady Guinevere and Sir Lancelot," an English accented voice harkened us closer to learn more.

"What's a Boggart and what's the big deal?" Raoul bluntly asked. No fooling my friend on ancient magic and silliness. It was the eve of Halloween, after all, Mischief Night…

"A skeptic I have found in you, dear lad. A Boggart is a shapeless demon who takes the shape of your biggest fears. And the only way to kill it? Laughter."

"Laughter to conquer fear?" Christine asked quietly. "Can one laugh in the face of fear? Is it possible to laugh at a nightmare?" She was trembling, the steel of her spine slowly melting away from the heat building from anxiety.

"Could you think of anything better than laughter, my dear? What better way to make the fear go away other than laughing at it head on?"

"Running…" I heard Christine whisper ever so faintly. I felt again something shift within her as her grip on my hand grew stronger. It felt like a challenge, like she honestly wanted to try this. I looked at her pleadingly and asked in confirmation, "Are you sure you want to do this?" Again, she gave only a slight nod of affirmation.

Meg and Raoul entered first rather stoic and cautious, arm in arm together. The rules were simple: one person stands in front of the mirror, the handler releases the latch, and out stumbles the cloudy, shapeless boggart awaiting to take form of your greatest fear, your partner standing in the sidelines as a reinforcement in case fear completely takes over, and attempts to bring out laughter. The handler remains in place with a bag of supposed tricks to induce laughter in case things get out of hand.

Rather sarcastically I chided, "What could POSSIBLY go wrong?" as Christine let out a nervous chuckle.

"I suppose everything could…" she couldn't finish her thought before we both saw Meg and Raoul emerging on the other side in absolute hysterics, near tears, sides roaring in pain with laughter.

"Oh my gosh you guys, do it! It's so scary at first but holy crap was it hilarious!" Meg screamed in excitement.

"Ready when you are, Erik," Christine pulled herself up to my face and placed a gentle kiss onto my lips.

Christine entered first as I watched apprehensively in the darkened room. The mirror towered in front of her and I could see her chest rising hard and fast, her nerves building. And suddenly, there it was, the dark unshaped cloud swirling its way around my beloved. And soon it stopped hard in front of her, a more apparent form taking shape, coming to life. In front of Christine stood the biggest fear of her entire existence. A man… dark, short hair, chocolate brown eyes that fooled of warmth, a condescending bridge of a nose, eyes arched in sarcasm, a handsome face etched with ruthlessness, cruelty.

"It's him, I knew it, it's him…" I heard Christine's trembled whisper. "No, anything but you." She froze in fright as Kevin stood before her, a smirk on his smug face, his hands reaching up to caress her face.

"Oh, how long it's been, to touch you again. I see you've brought that monster with you. Didn't I teach you both a lesson, you selfish girl?" Kevin breathed onto her bare neck. I stood in horror, in shock, feeling the rage and urge to throttle and kill Kevin… no, he's not real, he's NOT REAL! I ran to her side and pulled her harshly into my arms. Her body rock hard in fear.

"Whatever you may believe, this man… this THING is not Kevin, he's NOT REAL!" I implored her to focus her eyes on me. "Christine, Christine, listen to me, look at me love." My voice begging and pleading for her to come back.

"Such spirited, loving words," Kevin the boggart mocked, and suddenly I watched in horror as this boggart morphed from Kevin into… my own monstrous reflection. My deformed, loathsome face confronting my own. My biggest fear in front of me - my horrid, deformed face.

"Erik, no, no, you're not a monster, no… Erik, look at me," Christine now pleaded with me to pull my attention away from what's haunted me since birth. "I love you, I love you, I love you" she cried in between the I love you's and the gentle kisses she placed upon my tear-stained face.

"Loooooove," growled the deformed boggart as both of us turned to see it take on the shape of Kevin but with my distorted, deformed face upon his own. "Love! LOVE, LOVE!" the boggart screamed in agony as Kevin lunged for us.

"RAOUL! MEG!" Christine screamed for help from our companions. From the corner of my eye, I followed the bobbing blonde heads forming a protective human barrier between us and the boggart. Suddenly I heard Meg randomly shriek the most absurd, ridiculous thing I've ever heard.

"Spongebob Squarepants wearing tightie-whities!" She laughed hysterically.

"Wait, WHAT?" was the less-than-coherent thing I could possibly utter, and suddenly before us stood an obnoxious yellow sponge in tight briefs underpants. Somehow this boggart morphed from a menacing presence ready to kill into the most ridiculous cartoon character and laughed. We laughed. We actually laughed. Tears streamed down our faces laughing at this absurdly stupid character in front of us laughing his cartoonish cackle. Shortly after, the handler appeared to wrangle the boggart back into the wicked mirror. With my arms wrapped protectively around Christine's waist, I felt her head turn briefly back for one last glance.

Kevin never fully appeared again, but took on a straight phantom-like shape. "No one will love you like I do, Chris…" he whispered. How did he…?

"You're wrong. I love her most; I won and you lost. And you'll never have her again," I growled at Kevin as the boggart again faded into a shapeless cloud and disappeared.


	5. Soft Sentence Starter Prompt

Soft Sentence Starters: "Your hair keeps falling into your eyes, do you know that? Here, lemme just-"

Received from rscoil

**A/N: NSFW, please be advised! This is my first ever attempt at fluff/smut and an early Christmas gift for the Phandom. E/C as always. Please DO NOT READ if you are offended or shocked by the nature of this material.**

The midnight candlelight service was perfect. By the time Erik and Christine had left the church, a rare Christmas snow had dusted the earth in glistening, sparkling crystals. It was magical. Erik sighed happily as they drove up the long driveway to the house, the white twinkle lights engulfing their small home in the woods with softness and warmth. And between them, another warmth was kindling even stronger from the romance and magic of Christmas.

Once inside, the house remained dark sans the Christmas lights and decorations subtly illuminating with seductive magic. "Tea?" Christine asked softly.

"Definitely. I'm taking a quick shower." Christine prepared their tea in the meantime, quietly humming along to her favorite Christmas tunes playing quietly on the stereo. Erik emerged wearing a well-fitted black t-shirt and black and white flannel bottoms. He wrapped his arms around Christine's waist, gently teasing the curves of her hips. She inhaled deeply, "Mmm, you smell good. You're my favorite scent." Erik placed a soft kiss on the nape of her neck and teased, "And you're my favorite Christmas treat" and dug his long fingers into her ticklish side, sending her wriggling away with a shriek, "You're so mischievous!" and made her way to the bedroom for a shower.

Tucked away in the back of the closet hung an early Christmas present for Erik: a soft lace, thigh-length nightgown with a matching silk robe. She took a deep breath, steadying herself as the rise of erotic excitement coursed through her veins. Tying her long hair into a bun, Christine let the hot water caress her body, her lavender soap filling her senses. After her shower, she oh-so-carefully began assembling her Christmas treat. The sheer lace nightgown hugged the curves of her hips, her backside, and her breasts, her nipples ever so faintly protruding from under the lacy overlay. The silk robe doaned over the nightgown, she loosely tied the velvet ribbons closed. And with another steadying deep breath, she walked down the hallway towards the living room. Music surrounded her from the piano, the humming coming from Erik's throat sending shivers down her spine.

She stood seductively at the side of the baby grand, gently leaning her hips against the inward curve of the piano's body. "Now who's being mischievous?" asked the seductive voice of the musician before her with a raised eyebrow. Christine leaned down to place a gentle kiss upon Erik's deformed lips, her hair coming untucked from before her ears and falling in front of her face. "Hmm, your hair keeps falling into your eyes, do you know that? Here, let me just…" Erik's long, soft fingers twirled her long curls into his hands, as he gently pulled her hair back to expose her long, bare neck, his lips and tongue gently yet hungrily teasing the lines of her jaw, down, down ever so painfully slow. And with a gentle nip of his teeth, her breath hitched as she felt Erik's hands mapping the lines of her neck and back. "Come with me," he gently commanded. She'd be a fool not to obey that voice.

The soft, instrumental Christmas jazz playing ever so faintly in the background served as an overture to the composer, as Erik's hands ghosted over the body of the exquisitely beautiful blank page before him. His nimble fingers navigated the column of Christine's throat, gently brushing down the peaks of her breasts, finding the loosely tied velvet ribbon of the silky robe. The subtle sound of fabric falling to the floor was in duet with the deep, unsteady breath of the artist about to create a masterpiece. Christine slowly raised her hands to Erik's face, tracing the outlines of his mask as they glided underneath to gently pull the obstruction off his face. Erik's eyes slid closed as they always did whenever Christine lifted both mask and wig away from him. "All or nothing at all," she always whispered assuredly as her lips captured his with a hunger needing to be filled.

This duet was orchestrated the same when they came together… a symphony of three different movements. And tonight, on the magic eve of Christmas, tonight would be no different. The duet of the composer and the blank art together, would create a new symphony tonight. The first movement of exploration: his fingers adeptly sliding the velvet straps of Christine's nightgown down her arms accompanied by the decrescendo of fabric to the floor, lying in repose upon a pile of pillows and a quilt. Christine fingers and hands finding the bottom hem of Erik's shirt, directing him in the waves of removing fabric against skin. A crescendo of moans and gasps of lips meeting to feed the growing hunger. Another crescendo rose as Erik's long fingers explored Christine's wetness, the slickness glazing his fingers as her wanton body granted them access. Tonight, this first movement would be of exploration and unlocking a hidden treasure. Tonight, Erik thirsted for more. His fingers worked inside of Christine, her back arching with every throb, every motion becoming more intense. Harder and faster his fingers worked until… oh a sound! A new sound… a seductively erotic sound of squelching liquid and a feeling of absolute ecstacy caused Christine's eyes to shoot open, her arms pulling Erik harshly against her naked body, her nails digging into his bare shoulders. "Oh my g-!" her words cut short as a pool of liquid poured over Erik's hard fingers inside her. Erik's erotic growls granting Christine permission to let the sensation wash over her. The composer unleashing a splatter of sounds upon his open composition. A full, dramatic decrescendo finalized their first movement, as Christine panted and gasped to gain composure back to earth. Their eyes met as Erik's grabbed Christine's lips, their tongues dancing together in a seductive tango.

"On your back," she whispered to him, a new composer and conductor coming into command; a second movement, with Erik as the blank page under his lover's gaze. Her delicate hands commanding the slither of Erik's remaining garments to be released from constraint. And there underneath this composer lay a new creative work for her to explore. Her hand gently grabbed Erik's erection, causing a hitch of breath as his eyes slid close to gain self-control. Suddenly Erik felt the hot wetness of Christine's tongue and mouth, taking him in with a steady, slow rhythm, the vibrations of her moans causing him to shudder in a staggering hitch of breath. Christine smiled to herself as she watched Erik's reaction, hearing his moans of ecstasy. Suddenly Erik's hands flew to her hands, ripping her away from his erection. Gasping he pled with an embarrassed grin, "You need to stop…" Christine winked. "Perhaps something else, then?" And she slid ever so slowly down, feeling him sink into her deep. She released a pleasured sigh as she conducted a steady, slow rhythm against him. Feeling the bud of her arousal grinding onto him hard and slow, she wrapped her arms around Erik's shoulders and guided up to her. He hungrily feasted upon her breasts, teasing her nipples with his tongue. Christine head fell back as she felt his free hand caress around her throat. The second movement of this symphony was coming dangerously close to an all-too-soon end, and with a command to take over for the final movement, the composer commanded, "On your knees." Christine relinquished her authority and obeyed the maestro.

The third movement began with Christine on all fours, her gleaming eyes reflecting desire and wanting to bring this symphony to a climactic conclusion. Erik slowly glided back into her, the new position doing wonders for both as they moaned in unison. Christine sank down to lay on her stomach, Erik's strong weight pushing her down. She felt the slither of his long fingers ply underneath her, cupping and surrounding and teasing her swollen bud, Erik's erection pulsing into her. Without the need for instruction, Christine's hips began grinding furiously as Erik's fingers pushed. This third and final movement was a composition of loud crescendos of absolute ecstasy, of swelling arpeggios and glissandos of vocal slides as the final climax of their erotic symphony, with Christine commanding, "Oh, oh my… oh Erik, feel me!" Erik seized all motion to fully take in the climax of the most beautiful symphony they had ever created. He felt every ounce of Christine pour herself out to him, feeling every muscle in her body constrict around him, he felt her, he felt every seismic impact of her body convulsing in absolute relief because of him. It was too much, he couldn't bear the movement any further. "Let go! Let me feel you!" Christine begged and yearned for Erik to meet her on the cataclysmic ending of an incredible composition of crescendos, glissandos, arpeggios, and decrescendos. Christine felt Erik's body stiffen as his climax was massaged from him by Christine's pulsing orgasm in sounds of guttural groans and moans.

Their bodies lame with pleasurable exhaustion, the duet laid side by side catching their breath. Within a few more heart beats and sighs later, Erik felt Christine's body relax completely, a soft smile illuminating her face. "You alone can make my song take flight; help me make the music of the night," he sung to her quietly. Soon after Erik drifted into a restful, peaceful sleep, the snow falling heavily as the warm glow of white twinkle lights embraced their winter's night slumber.

A most beautiful symphony indeed.


	6. The Orchard

**A/N: got this stupid idea today while looking at pictures of orchards, farms, and fields. This is pretty stupid but needed to get this idea out and written. Beep boop...**

* * *

_The first time I heard his voice, I thought it was simply a dream, the strange time between sleeping and waking. It felt like a trace that embraces my mind, and I never craved anything so desperately in my life._

The slightly dry wild grasses crunch quietly beneath my bare feet. The summer air is so oppressive, so silent, so still - it is impossible not to give in to the feeling of the cool earth underfoot. The orchard trees are covered with simple green leaves, barren of any apples but the fragrance of sweet fruit blooms fill my senses and make me yearn for the cool kisses of autumn.

We just moved into this small cottage over the winter escaping the big city life. Mom and Dad said it was to get back to quieter times, but I honestly think it's because they got tired of dealing with me. I consider myself a wanderer and a dreamer, always feeling like I'm meant for more, and an imagination that tends to take me far away from the realities of life. I'm 22 years old and I've never been in love before. I write a lot; I sing a lot but only when I'm alone; and I escape into a world I create in my mind. Truth be told, however, is that I'm terribly lonely and sad. My heart yearns for something but I'm not exactly sure what it is.

Our backyard hugs the property line of a huge apple orchard and farm owned by some man whom we have yet to meet. Today I decide to push the boundary and cross into an enchanted world, my imagination running wild that I'm a character out of a Jane Austen novel. I twirl around in my flowing lace dress, strands of hair escaping the updo of pins. I feel the warm summer breeze caress my skin. I'm running deeper and deeper into the grove of apple trees, the smells of apple blossoms pulling farther and farther away from home. The green grass is cool beneath my feet as I begin singing a serenade for autumn.

_The falling leaves drift by my window  
__The autumn leaves of red and gold_

I stop singing when my feet are suddenly immersed in the shallow, cool waters of bubbling stream. I giggle to myself as I splash around and dredge my hands into the smooth, calm waters. Words from my serenade escaped and just as I sing, I hear a voice, a most beautifully deep voice sing back:

_I see your lips, the summer kisses  
__The sun-burned hands I used to hold_

I stop dead in my tracks, my mind working frantically to decipher if this is part of the world I just created or if it was the real world. So I stop and listen closer, the voice floating and riding the summer breeze and I hear it again…

_Since you went away the days grow long  
__And soon I'll hear old winter's song_

"But I haven't gone away," I whisper into the wind and return the voice's melancholy serenade:

_But I miss you most of all my darling  
__When autumn leaves start to fall_

My feet pick up speed as I leap over the creek and down the path in between two rows of apple trees. I hear the voice in the wind giggle at my frivolity and I hear my voice giggling along. I'm back in to my Jane Austen world, again my white lace dress billowing in the breeze behind me as I'm running along. The song escapes my lips as I sing out to that dulcet voice,

_I miss you most of all my darling  
__When autumn leaves start to fall_

"Christine…" my name is whispered in the gently breeze and I freeze in my steps. I stand completely still and listen ever so carefully to the perfect annunciation of every syllable of my name.

"Who are you? How do you know my name?" I ask barely above a whisper. Suddenly the sun plays a game of hide and seek as dark clouds have quickly drifted in. A crack of thunder in the distance matches boisterous laugh coming from somewhere in the trees. "Who are you?" I ask louder, attempting to have authority over growing fear.

"Wouldn't you like to know, my Christine?" his voice responds, sliding down my skin in perfect time with the water droplets dotting my skin. Again the way his voice says my name urges my feet forward. Forgetting the rain and silencing the storm rocking in the clouds, I feel my feet quicken their pace. "Christine…" another sighing whisper. "Come Christine…" louder still his voice is calling me. The rain is falling heavier, my clothes are soaked through. The once beautifully perfect grassed beneath my feet is now sopping mud, slippery, wet, and my feet have no traction. A loud clap of thunder causes me to stumble and I fall before a most curious tree in the middle of the orchard. And leaning against the tree is such an oddly fascinating silhouette of a man. He's so tall, towering over me… he wears a mask which I find strangely terrifying and yet beautiful.

"Are you the one who has been calling to me?" I ask as he reaches out a hand to pull me off the ground. He smiles while placing a beautiful crimson rosebud into a pin in my hair. "Who are you? How do you know my name?" He remains completely silent, smiling at me, his long fingers brushing away my hair.

"Christine…" I hear my name but his mouth doesn't move. "Christine…" he still smiles at me. Again I hear my name and he glances up and looks to the horizon. I follow his gaze to see what has captured his attention, feeling my hand in his. As soon as my eyes meet the horizon, I feel him place a soft kiss into the palm of my hand and again my name is called. I turn to find him gone and I search frantically for him.

I mouth the words _where are you_ but the voice is not mine. "Christine… Christine? Christine where are you?" I blink wearily and am strangely blinded by the hot summer sun once again. I look around to find myself not in the orchard, but instead in the backyard of my home, laying on a picnic blanket as I watch Grandma Valerius approach with a warm smile. "Oh you sleeping child, you'll be as red as a radish laying out in this hot sun. Lunch is ready, come inside."


End file.
